The Escape
by Elseajay
Summary: Ever wonder what really went down when Lorelai ran away from the Gilmore house? Here's one version of how it might have happened. . .
1. Chapter 1: The Ultimatum

THE ESCAPE

Ever wonder what really went down when Lorelai ran away from the Gilmore house? Here's one version of how it might have happened. . .

DISCLAIMER: I own my car, my cats and my condo. That's it. The characters belong to Dan and Amy.

CHAPTER ONE: THE ULTIMATEM

Lorelai Gilmore had a problem.

It wasn't enough that she was being coerced by her mother to attend the stuffy tea with the stuffy DAR ladies taking place in their home that afternoon. It wasn't enough that she would be stuck indoors on a beautiful early summer's day.

No, she also had to submit to wearing the ridiculous dress her mother had laid out on her bed that morning.

There was nothing really wrong with the dress, she realized, as she pulled a brush through her dark, tangled curls. It was simple, tailored, navy blue with white collar and cuffs. The problem was, it just wasn't Lorelai. It bore a striking resemblance to every other outfit she had been forced to wear to every other boring social event since she was twelve—and, she knew, to every other dress that would be seen at her mother's home that afternoon. It bore no relation to who she was—an energetic, vibrant 17-year-old girl whose tastes ran much more towards jeans, sneakers and T-shirts extolling the virtues of her favorite rock bands.

She slipped the dress over her head, managed to pull the zipper up in the back and then began to struggle with the buttons on the cuffs. After a few minutes, she let out a frustrated "Gah!", examined the cuffs more closely and restarted her efforts. But her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a baby's shriek down the hall.

The cuffs forgotten, Lorelai slipped her feet into the navy blue pumps her mother—or the maid, at her mother's command—had set on the floor by her bed, and scurried down the hall to her daughter's nursery.

She skidded to a stop just inside the door. There was her baby, her Rory, sitting in her crib, sobbing like her heart would break. Her enormous blue eyes turned to her mother, their lashes drenched with tears, and she raised her arms in supplication.

Lorelai ran to the crib and swung her daughter into her arms. "It's okay," she murmured into the baby's soft curls. "What's the matter, Rory? It's okay, baby."

She heard a rustle at the side of the room and turned to see Rory's nurse, Theresa, rise from her chair and lay down the book she was reading. She crossed her hands in front of her, her sharp features grim, and turned a steely eye on Lorelai, knowing what was coming.

"What's the matter with you?" the girl shrieked. "Are you deaf? Can't you hear her crying? She needs to be picked up!"

"Excuse me, miss," the nanny replied stiffly. "But she's teething and she's going to cry no matter what we do. I can't hold her twenty-four hours a day. "

"You'll hold her when she's yelling like that!" Lorelai shouted. "She doesn't know why she's in pain! She just knows she needs to be comforted!"

"It's good to let them cry sometimes," the woman stubbornly insisted. "They have to learn to comfort themselves. Otherwise they grow up needy and dependent, always clinging to adults."

Lorelai briefly wondered if a blood vessel was going to burst in her head. "Needy and dependent? Clingy? She's a little baby—she's not even nine months old—she IS needy and dependent at this age, and has every RIGHT to cling to an adult! I can't believe I'm hearing this! You're nothing but a heartless, lazy bi—"

"LORELAI!"

Still hugging Rory, Lorelai turned defiantly at her mother's voice to see Emily Gilmore standing in the nursery door—looking, Lorelai thought, for all the world like judge, jury and executioner rolled into one.

She glared at her daughter but when she spoke her voice was modulated as always. "Lorelai, our guests are arriving. Give the baby to Theresa and come downstairs."

"She's in pain, Mom! She needs me!" Lorelai told her, her own pain clouding her voice. "This—this woman won't do anything for her!"

Emily looked like she was about to argue, but drew herself up into a composed stance. "Theresa, take the baby from Miss Gilmore," she commanded.

Theresa crossed the room swiftly and before Lorelai could even turn in her direction, she had pulled Rory from her mother's arms and turned away. Rory, objecting to this turn of events, began to shriek again and to reach for Lorelai. But before the girl could do anything, her mother had grabbed her arm and was escorting her firmly from the room. "Thank you, Theresa, " she called over her shoulder.

Emily rapidly steered her daughter down the hall into Lorelai's room and shut—not slammed—the door firmly behind her. "What's the matter with you, Lorelai?" she said angrily, turning to her daughter. "Are you out of your mind, speaking to Theresa that way?"

"She's letting Rory sit there in pain, Mom," Lorelai huffed. "She just wants to read her book and let Rory cry. She's just lazy and useless!"

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother retorted. "She comes with the highest recommendations from the agency. I've seen her credentials. She's worked for some of the best families in Hartford, and certainly knows more about caring for a child than a 17-year-old who has never even been around a baby before! We paid extra to get her and we're very lucky she agreed to come and work here."

"I don't see it as luck," Lorelai groused. "And nobody knows how to take care of my baby better than me."

Emily sighed. "I don't understand you," she told her daughter. "It simply isn't necessary for you to be bothered about caring for the baby night and day. That's what we pay people for, so we can concern ourselves with other activities. Like the tea we have this afternoon, and the charitable work we do. That's what women in our position are expected to do, Lorelai. I've told you that a million times."

"I don't care about that stuff," her daughter retorted. "I'd rather take care of Rory. I think that's the most important thing I could do with my life. "

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Well, if you'd married Christopher like we wanted, we could have bought you a nice little house and you could have stayed there and taken care of the house and your husband and child. But no—you couldn't listen to us about that, either."

"Mom, for the thousandth time—I don't love Christopher! And Christopher doesn't really love me. Our marriage would have been a disaster."

"When you get pregnant, you marry the father of your child." Emily repeated the mantra Lorelai had heard too many times to count over the past year and a half. She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated "Aargh!"

There was silence in the room for a moment while Emily surveyed her daughter. Then she spoke in a cold, firm tone. "At any rate, our guests are waiting downstairs and now is not the time to discuss your future—or lack of it." Good dig, Mom, Lorelai thought. "I arranged this tea so you could meet some of the ladies in the DAR and let them get to know you, in preparation for your joining the organization in the fall. You will come down with me now _and you will behave yourself."_ She stepped back from the door in a silent invitation for Lorelai to precede her.

As the girl sulkily complied, Emily got in one last shot. "And fix the cuffs on your dress—you look like a hooker with them hanging open like that."

So Lorelai descended the staircase with her mother and entered the living room below which was soon filled with chattering women holding drinks and small plates of hors d'oeuvres in their manicured hands. As instructed, Lorelai circulated, a fixed smile on her face, and attempted to keep from yawning at the inanity of their small talk. A few times someone said something genuinely interesting or amusing. Then her devastating smile lit up her beautiful face, her bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth and her laugh rang out above the low drone of the women's modulated voices. And her mother would wince.

As she was wont to do, eventually Lorelai drifted to the area near the kitchen, where the caterers and party planners were congregated and began to chat with them in a friendly way. Despite her disdain for the "events" her mother was constantly throwing and attending, Lorelai had developed an interest in how they were put together. Just from observation, some reading and her surreptitious talks with the help, she had absorbed a great deal about table settings, center pieces, dishes, glassware, flowers—and, of course, one of her favorite subjects: food. As she went with her mother to the various events Emily insisted she attend, Lorelai, sometimes out of sheer boredom, would study every aspect of the party and think, "Now, I would have used different flowers for that centerpiece. Colored dishes would be more festive. That glassware is just ugly," redesigning the whole event for her own amusement.

Emily, of course, did not approve.

As Lorelai chatted with one of the caterers, who were set up near the staircase, out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother glaring at her from a few yards away. Emily's eyes moved to one side and back again, indicating that she wanted her daughter to return to the party.

Lorelai glared back. But just as she was about to give in and head towards the living room, her ears, which had become enormously sensitized to such things over the past nine months, picked up a sound. A baby's wail.

Emily heard it too and narrowed her eyes at Lorelai in warning. Lorelai simply tossed her head, raised her chin defiantly and turned and hurried up the stairs to Rory's nursery and to a continuation of the same argument with Theresa she had left when Emily had interrupted earlier. She did not return to the party. As she sat and rocked her daughter, Lorelai thought gloomily, I'm going to catch holy hell for this.

Her prediction rate on her mother's reactions had been in the high nineties lately. Her average did not lower with their evening's encounter over the dinner table.

"That was absolutely unforgivable, Lorelai," her mother lectured over the salad course. "You abandoned your guests to do something a servant could do. You were extraordinarily rude. The DAR president was looking for you to discuss your admission and I had to tell her you had left the party. I can't tell you how you embarrassed me. I don't know now if she'll consider your application this year."

"Fine with me, Mom," Lorelai mumbled. "I don't want to join those old biddies anyway."

"Don't be ridiculous," Emily replied sharply. "Of course you want to join the DAR. Who wouldn't want to be a part of such a wonderful organization? It's a great honor."

Lorelai shook her head in frustration. "Mom, where is it written that I have to like all the same things you do? That I have to want exactly what you do? I'm my own person and I get to choose what I like and what I don't."

Emily looked like she wanted to say more, but resisted for the time being, her mouth set in a tight line.

After the main course had been served, Lorelai noticed her mother looking pointedly at her father. Finally Richard cleared his throat and said, "Lorelai, your mother and I have been discussing your future. What the next step should be for you."

This should be good, the girl thought to herself.

"As you know, our first choice for you would have been for you to marry Christopher and settle down," her father continued. "But you refused to do that."

Damn right, Lorelai thought.

"So we were willing to have you and Rory live here, as long as you comply with our rules and try to do something positive with your life, but. . ."

"Taking care of my daughter is doing something positive," Lorelai interrupted.

"But we're concerned that you're doing nothing else," Richard continued. "You hardly ever go anywhere or do anything on your own, without Rory. You never do anything with your friends—"

"My what?" Lorelai snarked. "My friends? My so-called friends all disappeared the minute I began to show. Probably urged to do so by their la-di-da, oh-so-proper parents. And I don't give a damn about any of them anyway." She looked sullenly at her plate. "I haven't even heard from Christopher in months—the guy you thought was so perfect for me." Although she would never admit it to her parents, that fact hurt her a little.

Her mother seemed to sense it, and spoke a little more gently. "You're a young woman and it's time for you to find something useful to do with your life. I had hoped that, since you're living at home, you'd take your place in society beside me, join the DAR, serve on some committees and charities—all the things I do."

Lorelai sighed. "That's not what I want to do, Mom."

"Oh, I've realized that," Emily replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "You've made that quite evident." She paused and her tone modulated. "So we thought it would be a good idea if you planned to go to college next fall."

Lorelai looked up with interest.

"You've passed your high school equivalency test and your grades have always been good," her mother continued. "It's a little late to apply for freshman year, but your headmaster always liked you and we think he could be persuaded to put in a good word for you with some schools and get them to squeeze you in."

"Oh, I don't know if that would be necessary, Mom," Lorelai replied thoughtfully. "Actually, I think going to college would be a good idea—I had been thinking about it myself. There are plenty of state schools and community colleges around here. I could go part-time, take a couple of classes to start, so I could still be available for Rory."

"Absolutely not," Richard retorted. "No daughter of mine is going to a _state_ school with all the other riff-raff. You weren't raised in a ghetto, Lorelai—you're from an Ivy League family, don't forget."

Lorelai glanced at him sideways. "How could I forget?" she queried sarcastically. "Well, if you don't want me to go to one of those places, what do you have in mind?"

Emily rose, went to the living room and returned with several thin books in her hand. "Here are some catalogs for places we think would be suitable. Your headmaster has connections with all of them. Read through the catalogs and start filling out the application forms."

Lorelai flipped through the catalogs, noting with increasing dismay the names on the covers. She looked up at her parents. "But these are all too far away. I couldn't commute to these schools."

"You wouldn't commute," her mother replied, her voice tight. "You'd go and live in the dormitory like the other students."

Lorelai looked at her mother with amazement. "And you think they'd let me bring Rory into a dormitory to live?" she scoffed. "You've lost it, Mom."

Emily didn't respond but gave Richard another pointed look. He cleared his throat again and said, "We weren't thinking that you would take Rory. She would stay here with us. You'd see her on school breaks and summer vacation, of course. She'll be just fine here with us and Theresa."

"Are you NUTS?" Lorelai shrieked at the top of her lungs. She stared at each of them in turn, and began to mutter. "No, no, no, NO, no way! Not gonna happen!"

"Lorelai, listen to me," her mother began.

"There's nothing to listen to! I am NOT leaving my baby here without me so you can turn her into either a brain-dead debutante or another society matron with a stick up her butt!" Lorelai screamed.

"Lorelai!" Richard thundered. "Apologize to your mother this instant!"

"She's the one that should be apologizing to me," his daughter retorted. She threw her napkin on the table and raced out of the room and up the stairs.

Her instinct was to go straight to the nursery but she remembered Rory was probably just getting to sleep and another confrontation with The Iron Maiden was the last thing she could take at that moment. So she went into her room and shut the door, and began pacing back and forth agitatedly.

Not a minute had passed before the door flew open and Emily entered. "This conversation is not over," her mother warned.

"It is as far as I'm concerned," the girl replied, not looking up.

Emily studied her for a moment, her mouth cemented into a tight line. When she spoke, her tone was firm and commanding. "You will follow the plan we have developed for you—or else."

Lorelai looked up with a sarcastic laugh. "Or else? Or else what? You'll lock me in my room with only bread and water? You'll throw me and Rory out into the street? Oh, go ahead, do that. That would provide your society friends with some great gossip for weeks!"

Emily hesitated and took a deep breath. "No," she replied in a dangerously soft voice. "You're a minor, Lorelai, and while you live in our house you will follow our rules. If you can't do that—"she paused again—"we will ask you to leave. But not Rory. We'll go to court and petition that your parental rights be terminated and we be given sole custody of her."

Lorelai stared at her mother and dropped on her bed, her legs suddenly weak. "You. . . you wouldn't dare!" she whispered.

Emily's whole face was so tight by that time that it bore an odd resemblance to a spring about to dangerously uncoil. "We'll do anything we have to do to make sure you lead the life you're supposed to lead, and that Rory is raised the way we think is best."

To say that Lorelai felt as if a runaway 18-wheeler had crashed into her and crushed her to the ground would be an understatement. She stared for a minute at her mother, completely breathless and speechless. But then, for just a second, she glimpsed something she had seen many times before: a predatory gleam in Emily's eye. And the understanding of what was really going on collapsed on Lorelai like the proverbial ton of very, very heavy bricks.

_She wants Rory._

She looked down on the floor as she tried to absorb what had immediately become a certainty. She wants Rory. She wants my baby. She wants a do-over. She wants another chance to get the daughter she always wanted, the one who will grow up to be just like her.

Lorelai's thoughts skittered in many directions while Emily stood and waited for a response. Before she had even reached her teens, Lorelai had recognized that by some fortunate quirk of genes or fate, she had been born with an instinctive gift for standing up to her mother—possibly because she had inherited Emily's iron will. She despised her parents' shallow values and lifestyle and determined early on that she would follow a different path from which she had never wavered, despite her many tangles with her mother. She had refused to be molded.

But, she realized with dismay, it would be different for Rory. As young as her daughter was, Lorelai already recognized that their basic natures were different. While she was spirited and defiant, Rory was placid and accepting, except when she was frightened or uncomfortable. She would simply go along with the world as it was presented to her. She would allow herself to be made into the image that Emily Gilmore wanted.

I would rather die than allow that, thought her mother frantically.

Sometimes a huge shock will cause a person to jump several levels in maturity in the blink of an eye. So it was for Lorelai in that instant. Instead of giving into what had been a lifelong impulse to scream her lungs out without thinking when provoked, she stopped herself and paused to use her head. I need to get us out, she thought. And to do that, I need time.

So she raised her face to her mother, a familiar, sulky, I-hate-this-but-I'll-give-in expression on it and said, "Okay. I'll put in the applications for the schools."

The anger in her voice was not faked.

Emily studied her for a moment, a little suspicious at the teenager's quick agreement. But, seeing nothing in Lorelai's face that looked out of the ordinary—the ordinary for her many past battles with her daughter—she relaxed a little. "I'm sure you'll see that this plan is the best for everyone in the long run," she said primly. And shut the door on her way out, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile of triumph.

As soon as she had gone, Lorelai sprang up, pacing her room like a tiger, her mind moving about a million miles a second. She had often had the experience of feeling the walls of the Gilmore house closing in on her—but never to this extent. She felt as if she was being squeezed and smothered to death. She actually had to bend over, gasping for breath as she experienced the first full-blown anxiety attack of her young life. She finally stopped and stood still, closing her eyes and forcing herself to calm her thoughts and her breathing. Eventually they both relaxed and she resumed her trek in circles around her room.

Her pacing took her past her beloved dollhouse, sitting on a table in the corner. She stopped and leaned over to look at it, remembering the hours she had spent playing with it, moving small figurines in and out—creating the happy family she so longed for and never had. "I swear, Rory," she muttered. "That's the kind of home I'm going to make for you."

At the thought of her daughter, Lorelai glanced at her watch and saw that the nanny had probably left for the evening. She padded down the hall to the nursery which was lit only by a small, covered lamp in the corner. Rory was asleep in her crib, her dark lashes curling like lace on her pink, porcelain-like cheeks, sleeping the deep sleep of the very young and the very peaceful. As Lorelai crouched to reach between the bars of the crib and gently touch her daughter's arm, she wondered if she herself would ever sleep so peacefully again.

Indeed, she slept little that night, the night following what Lorelai would later term The Great Backstab of 1985. She tossed and turned, her mind moving along this path and then that one and she tried to develop the beginnings of a plan and think of someone who might help her.

She thought briefly of her Grandmother Gilmore. Gran was a practical, no-nonsense lady with whom Lorelai had always felt a grudging kinship, although they barely knew one another. For one thing, she was the only person in Lorelai's world who could leave Emily Gilmore stammering and stuttering and scrambling to fill the old lady's every unreasonable wish, and Lorelai enjoyed this sight immensely. After Rory's birth, Gran had sent a lovely baby gift and a letter to her granddaughter which, on the surface, seemed to scold Lorelai for her thoughtless and impulsive behavior—but which, Lorelai fancied, expressed a hint of under-the-table approval for the girl's independence. She and Gran were kindred spirits, she felt, and surely Gran would get a charge out of thwarting Emily. On anything.

But the senior Gilmore had recently moved to London. Lorelai thought briefly of sneaking into Gran's Hartford house to live but she knew her father paid random but regular visits to check on the property. The possibility of discovery was too great.

Besides, Gran was a Gilmore. While she might fundamentally agree with Lorelai's wishes and not mind barreling over Emily to see her granddaughter get what she wanted, she would never agree to keep a secret like that from Richard.

So Gran was not a possibility.

Lorelai's mind wandered over other people she knew. Her friends, as she had told her parents, had little to do with her these days, finding her an embarrassment, and would probably tell their mothers anyway if Lorelai disappeared and they knew her whereabouts. They were not a possibility.

But as her mind raced over the faces of her friends, it paused on one sandy-haired head and she stopped her consideration to think about its owner. Christopher.

There had barely been a time in her consciousness when she and Rory's father had not been friends. She had seen pictures taken by their parents of the two of them as toddlers, she in a stroller and he standing nearby holding a large ball, both staring at the camera. He had always been around—a quiet, somewhat shy boy with a fixed smile who, for the first few years of their lives, had done nothing to gain her notice or approbation.

That changed at her sixth birthday party. Snooty little Lavinia Harris had made what Lorelai considered a condescending remark about the size of the Gilmore pool, and Lorelai was not about to stand for it. She engaged Christopher, who had been trailing after her all afternoon, as her sidekick. As Lavinia sat holding court on a bench in the garden, her back against the shrubbery, Lorelai and Chris had crawled through the bushes and smeared the back of the child's frilly pink dress with crushed chocolate cupcakes. The girl hadn't even noticed—and the other snickering kids did not see fit to mention it—until a short while later when her mother arrived to pick her up and began screaming as if the substance on her daughter's dress was blood and not chocolate. The culprits were quickly discovered, as they had not bothered to wash their hands of the cupcake debris, and both were punished.

But Lorelai had found a partner in crime.

After that, they naturally drifted together at children's birthday parties, Christmas parties and multi-family get-togethers where Lorelai always seemed to find some trouble for them to get into. She was the one that usually got blamed; Christopher just seemed too obedient and easy-going to be the instigator of any of their mischief. Emily, impressed with the Hayden's money and social standing, was happy to invite Chris over to the house for play dates, thinking he might be a good example and restraining influence on her hoyden of a daughter. Little did she know that as the two spent more time together, Chris became the author and moving force behind some of their escapades. The two explored every nook and cranny of the Gilmore house and discovered the various escape routes that Lorelai used so frequently during her adolescence.

During their pre-teen years, they begged to be sent to the same summer camp where they would take long walks in the woods together or paddle a canoe into the middle of the lake and talk for hours about their families, the things they disliked about their lives and their plans and hopes for the future. When they were enrolled in the same private high school, it seemed natural that they would begin to date. Lorelai experienced many "firsts" with Christopher: her first real kiss (as opposed to the awkward pecks she had received from several boys in junior high); her first hangover; her first (and last) toke of marijuana; her initial trips to first, second and third base. Until finally came the winter afternoon when the two of them climbed out of Lorelai's window onto her balcony and experienced the "first" that would change their lives forever.

Lorelai had always viewed Christopher as her sidekick, D'Artagnon to her Athos, Boswell to her Johnson, Sonny to her Cher. She saw him as someone who had the same hopes and values and who would stand valiantly by her side in their never-ending battle for freedom from their parents' world. But the minute the little strip turned pink, Christopher wimped out badly in Lorelai's estimation. Suddenly, instead of appearing sure and strong, he began to look confused and uncertain, increasingly placid and diffident, happy to take direction from any adult in his vicinity who might have an opinion on his situation. Thus it was that he proposed to her—not once, but three times at Emily's insistence—and Lorelai could swear that she saw relief in his eyes each time she said no.

He spent a fair amount of time with her during that summer as her pregnancy advanced. In the fall, when she was in her eighth month, he went to California to start college. He came back in October in time to visit her in the hospital and to stand by her side at the nursery window, gazing with amazement and some trepidation at the tiny scrap of humanity they had created.

At that point, he virtually disappeared. His letters and phone calls dried up. He dropped in for a short visit at Thanksgiving and another at Christmas. He didn't show up at Easter but sent Lorelai a birthday card in April. And that was it. Even though Lorelai now suspected he had arrived home for summer vacation, she hadn't seen or heard hide nor hair of him, a circumstance that she resented but largely understood and vaguely regretted.

Lying sleepless in her bed the night after Emily's ultimatum, Lorelai wondered if she might dare count on Christopher for help. She tried to imagine his reaction if she and Rory appeared with no notice on his dormitory steps in California. He might want to help, she knew; he might offer money. But he seemed to have bought in to his parents' world completely in the past year and had resigned his commission as her comrade in arms. She thought that if she did go to him, he would probably urge her to return home and even see giving up custody of their daughter as a viable option. He might even, she thought with a prick of fear, decide to call Emily and Richard himself to inform them of her whereabouts.

So Christopher was not an option, Lorelai decided.

She finally fell into a fitful sleep after a while longer of thrashing in her bed. By the time she awoke, she still didn't have a definite plan but had a pretty good idea of the direction in which she needed to move to make a plan. And step one of Operation Blow This Joint would start that very morning.


	2. Chapter 2: The Plot

THE ESCAPE

Ever wonder what really went down when Lorelai ran away from the Gilmore house? Here's one version of how it might have happened. . .

DISCLAIMER: Dan and Amy own it all. I just like to play with their toys.

CHAPTER TWO: THE PLOT

Despite her lifelong aversion to most aspects of their lives, Lorelai always had to admit that her parents were very generous with her, in terms of material things at least. As a child she had only to point to a doll or toy or article of clothing and it was hers (if Emily deemed it suitable, of course.) Birthdays and Christmases would bring such an avalanche of wrapped and beribboned plenty that, even as a child, Lorelai would sometimes feel physically sick from it and to tearfully declare that she simply didn't want to open any more presents.

As she moved into her teens, her father, in a sudden burst of by-the-book parental responsibility, decided that she had to learn how to handle her own money and began to deposit an ample allowance into a bank account for her. While her mother still tended to pick out and purchase more formal clothing items, Lorelai always had plenty of funds to buy CDs, makeup, jewelry, books, trinkets, jeans, casual shoes and the brightly decorated T-shirts that she loved and which regularly caused Emily to heave disgusted, but resigned sighs.

It was no different after Rory's birth. Emily provided a fully-equipped and beautifully (and expensively) appointed nursery—the decoration of which Lorelai had little opportunity to comment on—and a layette large enough and in enough different sizes to easily accommodate a set of triplets well into their second year. Regularly used supplies appeared as needed. Still, Richard increased Lorelai's allowance and she was expected to use it to pick up whatever little things she felt her baby needed or wanted.

So available money was not a problem.

Her parents were generous in other ways. After Rory's birth, they paid for private driving lessons for her, as returning to school for Driver's Education was, of course, out of the question. And after Lorelai obtained her license, they offered to buy her a car. Of course, they wanted to give her a Mercedes or BMW, but their daughter had different ideas. It had always seemed a waste to her, and a little disgusting, to spend the equivalent of a year's salary on a piece of machinery when one costing a quarter of that could do the exact same job of getting one from place to place. She stood her ground on that issue and Richard finally gave in and put the money down for a small Toyota. It had enough room in the back seat for Rory's car chair and even some trunk space. It met Lorelai's needs exactly and, as she pointed out to her father, it would cost less to run than a bigger or more expensive car. Richard was secretly impressed with his daughter's practicality; Emily quietly requested that Lorelai park her new treasure to the side of the house, with the cars of their servants, so it wouldn't be seen sitting in the driveway at the front by neighbors or visitors.

Once she had the car, Lorelai's freedom to come and go was not questioned. As the winter following Rory's birth warmed into a pretty Connecticut spring, the girl began taking her baby out on a regular basis, sometimes just to get out of the oppressive atmosphere of the house. Sometimes she pushed Rory in her stroller around the neighborhood but eventually began popping them both into her little car more and more and visiting parks and playgrounds around Hartford. Sometimes Lorelai even ventured outside of town into the suburbs and countryside, simply driving up and down residential streets. She would grin at the children playing there and admire the snug little houses that looked so pretty curtained in the lacy green of the young leaves and the rainbow of colors of the flowering trees and shrubs surrounding them. That's what I want for us, she would think.

So—she had money, transportation and the freedom to use them. She had all the tools she needed to plan her escape.

On the first morning of Operation Get-Me-Out-Of-Here, Lorelai lingered upstairs longer than usual as Rory was prepared for the day. She fed her daughter her bottle, and in doing so was reminded of another sore point with her mother. After Rory's birth, she had insisted on breast feeding the child, much against Emily's wishes ("Only common people do that!") and did so for several months, thoroughly enjoying the closeness she felt with the little person she had carried. Emily harped on it every minute, complaining that Lorelai would ruin her figure, that she was becoming "too attached" to the baby, that as long as she needed to be available on demand for Rory, she wouldn't be able to participate in Emily's social activities. Eventually, in a sneaky move which angered Lorelai immensely (but didn't particularly surprise her), Emily ordered the nurse to throw out the bottles of breast milk Lorelai pumped as they appeared and replace them with formula. Before Lorelai knew it—or was ready for it—Rory had been weaned.

She was furious with her mother and the argument that followed that little bit of trickery rocked the very foundations of the house and left them snubbing each other coldly for several days. As Lorelai remembered it, sitting rocking her baby, she shook her head with disgust. I should have seen it then, she thought. I should have seen that she wouldn't be able to keep from butting in between me and Rory.

She was hanging out in the nursery that morning because she simply wanted to avoid both her parents for a long as possible. She heard the door slam as her father left for the office and waited until she heard her mother's footsteps going into her room, as she knew Emily had to get ready for a committee meeting that morning. She then gathered up her daughter, stopped downstairs for a quick cup of coffee and a muffin, and packed her little bundle into her car for a getaway. They headed out to their first destination—the Connecticut state library.

Lorelai needed information.

With the help of her natural charm and one of her patented hair flips, she managed to get permission from the young male clerk to get into the stacks even with a baby in tow. Engaging the assistance of an interested librarian, she was soon surrounded by books on Connecticut statutes regarding the rights of minors. She learned that, since 1972, majority was considered to be the age of 18. Good, she thought—I've only got about nine months to go. She also discovered to her horror that, if she ran away and her parents caught her, they could send the police after her and make any number of unpleasantries happen, including commitment to a juvenile facility. She shuddered. If that came about, they would get Rory for sure. Whatever she ended up doing, she would have to be sure that she would not be found. She also discovered, and read extensively about, becoming an "Emancipated Minor." If she, at age 17, was able to live successfully apart from her parents and handle her own money, she could petition the probate court to be emancipated—meaning the Gilmores would no longer have any legal jurisdiction over her. This was tempting on several levels, but there were also drawbacks. The petition would have to include her address at the time she filed it and her parents would have to be informed of it, which would effectively blow any cover she might develop. She also remembered, with a sinking feeling, that the area probate judge was a member of their club and a golfing buddy of her dad's. He would probably sympathize more with her parents and make a decision based on their urging.

Besides, as much as Lorelai hunted through the statutes, making copies of pertinent ones to keep with her for later perusal, she could find no information on what rights a minor, even an emancipated one, had to her own child. The minute Lorelai filed a petition with the court and her parents were informed, they would probably swoop down on wherever she was and snatch Rory out of her arms. Even, she knew, if she had a lawyer of her own, there would probably be nothing to stop them. Their money, social contacts and influence would almost surely guarantee them that the legal proceedings would go their way.

She also checked on information about financial and medical help she might be able to obtain for herself and Rory. There were appropriate programs, but she wouldn't be eligible for them at age 17 unless she was emancipated or living with a legally-appointed guardian. Applications for those programs, too, would require her address, birth certificates for both them, and so forth.

So looking for help from the State did not seem to be an option for Lorelai.

She slammed the last book shut, wincing in apology when another patron looked at her askance for the disturbance. She hurriedly packed up her daughter and left the building, returning to their car which was parked on the next block. She then headed to one of the little playgrounds she had discovered in her travels, stopping first for a sandwich and a bottle of soda. In the park, she fed her daughter, carefully placed her into one of the baby swings and stood gently pushing it back and forth as Rory chortled with delight.

She stood lost in thought. She might have to approach her escape from a different direction altogether and design a plan herself, rather than count on another entity, human or administrative, to assist her. She began to think about the type of situation she would like to find for herself.

She briefly considered moving to another state but hesitated. Now that she had an idea about the laws of which she might run afoul, she wanted to use that knowledge. Other states might have totally different juvenile laws which would make her situation more difficult. She was willing to investigate them, but didn't have the means available and didn't quite know how to find it.

Besides—Connecticut was her stomping grounds. Although she had traveled more extensively than most girls her age, she still had lived here all her life. She knew the geography, the location and names of most of the surrounding towns, the transportation system, the seasonal weather quirks, the store chains available, the culture. What she proposed to do would be difficult enough without immersing herself in a totally new world. So, I guess I stay in Connecticut, she thought. I just have to make sure it's someplace where we can remain hidden.

Her next question was what type of place she should go to. Hartford was out of the question—too many people knew her there. A medium-sized town or small city would probably be a possibility. One of the big cities, like Bridgeport or New Haven, was an alternative—and probably an easier place in which to disappear—but she had been in and out of those cities and shrank from the pressured atmosphere and inherent dangers. She knew she would only be able to afford someplace cheap to live and didn't want her little girl to grow up in a small walk-up apartment with only a smelly, cluttered street to play in.

Her preference was for a more country, small-town atmosphere but she worried about that. Small towns were hard to disappear into—people tended to notice someone new and wonder about them, and she might be endangered by how close-knit and talkative the residents of a place like that might be. The advantage was that they probably would have no idea who she or her family was. She could spin some tale to hide her true background and keep them off her scent. What would really be best, she thought, was some type of very small and isolated place, away from even a small town, where she could live her life, mind her own business and hope that the people around her would do the same. Once she turned eighteen and had some months of self-support under her belt, she would have a better chance of keeping Rory even if she was discovered.

She also began to wonder about what type of job she might want or qualify for. At that point, she had not worked a day in her life aside from a little bit of charity work. She realized that she was uniquely _un_-qualified to do pretty much anything.

Thanks to her daughter, she had some experience with child care; perhaps a day care center or something like that might be suitable. Once, at her mother's insistence, she had actually learned some housekeeping skills, like dusting and vacuuming and bed making—she wasn't exactly sure why except that it suited some mission Emily happened to be on at the time. So she could also be a maid or housekeeper.

As she pondered, Lorelai remembered the fascination she had developed with the ins and outs of designing social events and the amount of knowledge she had picked up along the way. Now, that would be something she'd really like. Perhaps she could become an assistant to a party planner or a catering business and learn the ropes. That would be fun.

Lorelai snapped back to attention, finding that she was still in the park. Rory had drifted to sleep while being gently rocked in the swing, so her mother packed her back into her car seat and returned home, pleased with the ideas she had developed, the knowledge she had gained and the progress she had made on her plans.

Over the ensuing weeks, Lorelai planned and executed her campaign on two fronts.

On the home front, she worked hard to reign in her natural opposition to anything her parents wanted of her, making sure to appear just rebellious enough so that they wouldn't get suspicious of a sudden change in her behavior. She continued to fight with Theresa—that wasn't hard—and to grouse to her mother about the schedule of social events she was still being forced to attend.

She tried again to test out the waters on the question of university vs. community college, just to see if that avenue might still be open, but her parents, particularly her father, were adamant on that point. Sleep-away school or nothing. So she duly completed the college applications her mother had provided her and sent them in. Her old headmaster certainly did seem to have some pull with the chosen schools, because within a matter of weeks she had received acceptances to all three of them. Her parents were thrilled; a choice was made, Emily went off into a haze of planning and shopping for clothes and Lorelai was off the hook for the time being.

At the same time, she was carrying on an undercover mission to make her getaway a reality.

She haunted the public libraries, switching branches from time to time so she wouldn't raise suspicions. Rory was usually with her; since Emily's ultimatum, the teen had developed a fair degree of paranoia and was reluctant to let her daughter out of her sight for more than a few minutes. At the libraries, Lorelai pored through maps and atlases, reading up on the characteristics of the towns and cities she had tentatively picked out, trying to figure out where she would be the safest and where she would have the best chance to succeed. When she found places that seemed to be possibilities, she would hunt down their local paper and look through it at the ads for employment possibilities.

About three weeks into what she thought of as her covert mission, she stumbled on to what might possibly be the mother lode.

She was perusing the Woodbridge paper when she came across a small ad on the employment page: "Seeking industrious, energetic housekeeping staff. Good pay, opportunity for advancement, friendly working atmosphere in lovely rural setting. Apply to Mia Holloway at the Independence Inn, Stars Hollow, Connecticut or call 555-5678."

Lorelai felt a shock akin to electricity go through her. This might be exactly what she was looking for.

She made a copy of the ad and moved to the research section to pull out the local maps. After some searching she finally found Stars Hollow, a pinprick southwest of Hartford, looking to be about a thirty- or forty-minute drive from the city. She noted that no major highways or even secondary roads came near the dot on the map. She next pulled out a book she had perused before, giving history and demographics on the cities and towns in Hartford county. She read that Stars Hollow had been founded in 1779, had a tiny population and a moderate per-capita income. The Independence Inn was listed as one of the top businesses and attractions there.

She found further information on the inn from a book on local travel and even discovered a brochure in a file folder on area hotels. She read that the inn was a substantial business for its kind; twenty-five rooms, ten acres of property, a full restaurant open to the public as well as to the inn's residents. They also offered facilities for private parties and weddings, and catered these events themselves, she noted with delight. This was looking better and better.

Lorelai grabbed the map, the book and the brochure, carried them all to the Xerox machine and came away with a possible path to freedom.

She decided that it would be best to go out to Stars Hollow and case the surroundings before contacting the Inn about a job, just to make sure it fit her specifications. In addition, she was simply dying to get a look at it, and that was her destination the next morning. If it looked suitable, and if she could get up her nerve, she might stop into the Inn and talk to the owner.

She would have preferred not to have Rory with her for this particular errand, but Theresa was off that day and Emily was busy with a luncheon and could not watch her granddaughter. When Lorelai asked, she replied, "You're always reminding us that she's your daughter, Lorelai, and that you want to take care of her. So you can do exactly that today."

So, unable in her excitement to wait a day, Lorelai dressed carefully in a denim skirt and plain polo shirt rather than the shorts and T-shirts she had been wearing daily. She put Rory in a particularly cute set of pink overalls with a pink and green striped shirt, and they went off on their adventure.

She had written out the directions for herself from the map and started out on I-84 until she had clearly passed where the exit for Stars Hollow should be. Backtracking, she missed it again going back north and, frustrated, turned a second time to head back south. She finally saw "Stars Hollow" in tiny lettering at the bottom of the sign for Woodbridge, almost too small to see. Lorelai smiled. This was a good sign.

She left the highway and drove for some miles on a very rural road, occasionally passing houses of all shapes and sizes. Many were of Colonial or Cape Cod style and all looked well-kept and attractive. Once she passed a sign saying something about an inn and, thinking she had missed the road for her destination, backtracked to the side road where she had seen the sign. But the name on the old wooden sign was "The Dragonfly Inn" and through the trees, Lorelai could see the roof of a dilapidated building. She sighed, turned the car again and continued.

After a further short drive she entered the town itself. Like many old New England towns, streets were wrapped around a central square, called a green in colonial days. In this town, however, there was a pretty gazebo in the center instead of the usual war memorial. Lorelai drove around the square noting the buildings: a bookstore, an antique shop, a small grocery, a hardware store, a bakery—all typical of a small town. She passed a large barn-like structure—indeed, probably someone's old barn—where a large woman in a bright, flowing caftan stood by the door puffing on a cigarette while inside a group of little girls in pink tutus twirled around. The place even has a dancing school, Lorelai grinned to herself—although it looked a far sight different than the fancy dance academies she had been forced to attend in her childhood.

She stopped for a moment to consult her map and continued out of town to find the Independence Inn. It was about a mile from downtown proper and in a very country-like setting. The building was imposing, painted white with cupolas and a wide porch, placed on a large expanse of land which sloped gently downhill behind the building to a pond with an ornate little bridge over it. Around the building were a number of small out-buildings.

Lorelai parked the car and surveyed her surroundings with satisfaction. The place was even more beautiful than she had imagined. Although it was near a small town—something she had worried about—the Inn itself was still quite isolated. There was really little chance that someone from Hartford would happen to stop here passing through the area.

Lorelai felt so excited she thought she would burst and her eagerness to get her plan moving caused her to impulsively decide to go in then and there and talk to the owner. She opened the car door, freed Rory from her car seat, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin and approached the front door with a combination of trepidation and excitement.

Little did she know that she was about to walk into a miracle.

Mia Holloway was a many-faceted woman.

To her colleagues in the travel/hotel industry she was a savvy businesswoman, a sharp competitor and someone who had gained their respect. She had taken a rather run-down property that never did better than 60% occupancy, even in the peak fall season, and, with hard work, excellent taste and an instinct for what the public wanted, turned it into one of the premiere inn-and-conference facilities in New England. She was well-known at the meetings and retreats held by the hotel owners' associations, and was well-liked and admired by all.

To her employees she was a gift. She was firm but always fair, tough when she needed to be and instinctively understanding of the little crises of life that sometimes forced a worker's attendance or performance to temporarily drop a notch. For some reason that even her employees didn't even understand, they always wanted to do their best for her and constantly strove to do even better.

To her friends and neighbors in the odd little town she chose as her home, she was unfailingly pleasant and friendly and gave unstintingly of herself. She attended every town meeting where her sensible opinions could quiet a chaotic room and get the subject on track again, and took part enthusiastically in every bizarre festival and event that the town planners thought up. She was courteous even to those that she didn't especially like and generous to a fault with those she did.

But first and foremost, Mia Holloway was a mother.

She lost her beloved husband in her mid-forties and, despite her heartbreak, went on to single-handedly raise her two sons and daughter warmly and efficiently. It was a tribute to her mothering that her kids absolutely adored her; it was also a tribute that they were three of the best-liked young people the town had ever seen. All three had grown and moved away, and she missed them with a daily ache that never subsided.

But her mothering instincts didn't die out there. She was known for taking children and young employees under her wing to support and mentor them. When the owner of the local hardware store suddenly lost his wife, who had been a good friend of Mia's, she did her best to be available to and heap affection on his shy, quiet son and rather wild daughter. The relationships she had developed outside of her family turned out to be some of the most fulfilling she had ever experienced.

But most of all, Mia loved babies. With her own grandchildren living far away, it would have been understandable if she hadn't bothered with those little people any more. But she attended every baby shower and christening to which she was invited, always bringing beautiful and thoughtful gifts, and was always available with time and advice to new young mothers who felt overwhelmed. No one knew, as she bounced the little ones on her knee and absorbed their drooly kisses, that her heart was breaking a little bit with yearning for her own children and grandchildren.

So Mia's mothering impulses were always on alert for new possibilities.

On that August morning, she was covering the front desk while the desk clerk took her coffee break when she heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, and looked up with a smile at the new arrival.

She observed a young woman—no, a teenaged girl—with a chubby baby fixed comfortably on her hip, almost as though the child was an extension of her arm. Mia watched covertly as the girl paused in the doorway to survey her surroundings. After a moment her eyes widened with admiration and satisfaction at the lovely furnishings and fabrics gracing the lobby. She turned her head until she spotted Mia at the desk and seemed to brace herself slightly as she moved forward.

Mia looked up and smiled. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Mia Holloway."

"I'm Mia Holloway."

The girl looked startled for a moment but quickly recovered. Her grip on the baby tightened and she lifted her chin with determination. "I saw your ad in the paper and I'm here to apply for a job."

Mia observed her silently for moment. She could see that although the girl's attire was neat but casual and age-appropriate, it was by no means inexpensive, and that the baby's outfit obviously came from one of the best children's lines. She was intrigued. "What's your name, dear?"

Her visitor seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Lo—Lorie. Lorie Wolcott," Lorelai replied. She hadn't thought far enough ahead to prepare herself for this challenge and instinctively utilized her mother's maiden name. Wolcott was an old Connecticut name common to the area and there were too many branches to easily trace one teenaged girl.

Mia, however, had noted the hesitation and her curiosity grew. To buy time, her attention briefly diverted to the baby, who was craning her neck to look around her. She smiled and nodded at the child, asking "Are you babysitting today?"

There it was again, that hesitation followed by a look of mild defiance. "No. This is my daughter. That's why I need a job. I need to support her."

This, Mia was not expecting. She nodded again, looking the girl up and down while Lorelai stood waiting, never wavering her glance from Mia's face. Now Mia was really intrigued. Her instincts, rarely incorrect, told her that this was a young woman with a strong character, serious troubles and a story to tell. She needed to buy time to figure this out.

She smiled again, leaned forward and said in a confidential tone, "So, Lorie Wolcott-would you tell me something?"

"Umm—sure," the girl replied, a cautious tone to her voice.

"Which do you like better—coffee or tea?"

Lorelai was surprised and gave a small laugh, suddenly more relaxed. "Oh, coffee, coffee—always coffee." And a little grin broke through.

Mia smiled again. "Well, why don't you come into my office? We'll have some coffee and discuss this further."

The girl nodded, a bigger smile lighting her face.

My God, she's beautiful, Mia thought. Just then the clerk returned from her break and Mia escorted Lorelai and Rory to her office behind the desk. She stepped out for a moment to arrange for the coffee to be brought as Lorelai settled into a chair and looked around with interest at the tasteful decoration of the room.

Mia returned and settled into a chair opposite the girl. She noticed that the teen had the baby in her lap and seemed to be clutching her tightly, and that the baby was getting fussy. "What's her name?" she asked.

Lorelai looked at her daughter with shining eyes. "Her name is Rory. She's almost ten months."

"Oh, so she's probably not walking yet."

"Almost." Mia could hear the pride in the girl's voice. "She crawls very well and she's starting to pull herself up and stand. Her doctor says she's meeting all her developmental milestones very early." And she smiled radiantly at the youngster who grinned back at her and grabbed at her mother's dark, curly hair.

Mia enjoyed watching them and her heart softened a little more. "Well, why don't you put her down and let her move around a little while we talk? The rug is vacuumed every day, so it's clean."

"Okay, thanks," Lorelai replied, setting the baby on the floor. Rory sat looking around for a minute and her eyes fell on Mia. The happy grin flashed again in the woman's direction and Rory began crawling towards her.

Mia watched her for another moment until there was a knock on the door and a girl delivered a tray of coffee and delicious-looking Danish pastries to the pair. They took their drinks and settled back.

Mia surveyed Lorelai again. "So—Lorie—why do you need a job to support Rory?"

The girl looked at the floor for a moment as if gathering herself. When she looked up at Mia, her eyes were less direct. "I'm pretty much—alone—and the baby's father can't help me—and—and I have to support her. I'm all she has."

"Any why do you want to work here?"

"Well, I don't have much work experience but I do know how to dust and vacuum and make beds. I saw your ad in the paper and read about your inn in a local travel book. It just really sounds like a nice place to work. And I see that you do things like private parties and weddings and things. I've—" she hesitated again—"I'm interested in learning something about that so I thought working here would give me some exposure.

"And I like this area," Lorelai continued. "I grew up in a city and I'd like for my baby to grow up in the country, near a small town."

Mia had been listening and nodding, saying nothing. Lorelai looked directly at her at last, and the woman heard a note of desperation in her voice. "I'd work very, very hard for you. I've got a lot of energy—I'm smart, I learn fast—and I'll do anything I have to for my daughter."

Just then Rory completed her trek across the room and grabbed the side of Mia's chair. Laboriously she pulled herself to her feet and looked solemnly into the woman's eyes—and then crinkled her eyes in a grin and her sparkling laugh rang out.

Mia laughed, too, and stared into the baby's huge blue eyes. As beautiful as her mother's they were, only a paler shade of blue. Her heart warmed even further towards the pair and she felt the familiar stirring of her maternal instinct. She stroked the child's pink cheek with her finger and was rewarded with a happy chortle. "May I?" she requested. Lorelai inclined her head and Mia hoisted the youngster into her lap where Rory continued to regard her with a smile. Then she discovered the string of beads around Mia's neck and began to examine it.

Mia looked up at the baby's mother, who was watching her with pride and love shining from her eyes. She glanced up at Mia and her full, devastating smile appeared for the first time in the interview. Mia took a deep breath.

"Honey, listen—I've been in this business a long time and I wouldn't have lasted as long as I have if I hadn't learned to read people. I like you—and I love your little friend here—but I have to say, some of your story just isn't jiving."

The girl's smile faded and a cautious look dulled the shine of her eyes.

Mia continued. "I'm willing to listen to what you have to say, and I might be willing to give you a chance. But. . ." She looked Lorelai directly in the eye. "But you have to be honest with me."

She waited.

Lorelai looked at the floor for a minute, biting her lip, considering. In a short while, she nodded slightly to herself and took a deep breath, seeming to brace herself. She looked directly into Mia's eyes.

"My name is Lorelai Gilmore. 'Lorie' is a nickname some of my friends have called me and 'Westcott' is my mother's maiden name. I'm from Hartford."

Mia nodded, sitting back in her chair, listening.

"My father is a bigwig in the insurance industry. My mother is—socially active."

Lorelai paused, considering her next words. "My parents are very caught up in the old social world. It's very important to them to act in certain ways, impress certain people, follow very strict and old-fashioned standards of behavior. There are all kinds of rules for what you do in this or that situation." Suddenly the words began to burst from her. "I hate their world. I always have. It makes no sense to me and it seems—almost evil in some ways. It's stifling. I hate it."

Lorelai took a deep breath. "Kids in the world where I grew up are spoiled to death—they get everything they want by pouting or throwing tantrums rather than by earning it. Kids in my world are raised by nannies—people their parents hire, instead of by their parents. I was raised by a nanny," and her eyes took on a distant look, as if she was remembering something unpleasant.

"And you didn't like that," Mia prompted.

Lorelai sighed. "Once, when I was about five, I had a doll that I really loved. One day I was playing too hard with it and the arm broke off. I was devastated. I ran to my mother and begged her to fix it. I kind of grabbed her around the knees, crying to her. And she—" the girl's face grew dark—"And she pushed me away from her and said, 'Lorelai, stop crying and let go of me. You're wrinkling my dress. Go back to your room. We'll buy you another doll,' and she walked away. And then the nanny yelled at me for bothering my mother." She looked at Mia and a bitter tone colored her voice. "As young as I was, I decided then and there that I would never be that way with my kids, that they would be raised differently. As I grew up, the same kind of things kept happening over and over, and I never changed my mind. My parents have never really approved of me," she added in a small voice. "I don't think they like me very much."

Mia's heart ached for the teenager before her. She paused a moment and silence in the room seemed to echo against the walls. Finally Mia said, "Go on."

Lorelai seemed to shake off her emotions and she continued. "When I got pregnant, everybody expected me to marry the baby's father. My parents, his parents—everybody. He's someone I've known all my life and we've always been good friends—but I know I don't love him. Not the way I think you should love someone that you marry. So I said no. My parents were furious. His parents thought I was ruining his life and that I should get an abortion or give Rory up for adoption. I refused. "

Again Lorelai's eyes took on a reminiscent quality. "I was supposed to be presented to society that spring. My gown didn't fit because I was gaining weight. That was when I realized I was pregnant. I think that was the last straw for my parents—they were so disappointed in me. So they took me out of school during my pregnancy, as soon as I started to show. They got me a tutor and I pretty much stayed hidden until the baby was born. Constantly listening to my mother tell me how I had failed her.

"When Rory was born my mother hired an old battle-axe to be her nanny. I fought with her constantly—she has all these antiquated ideas about raising a child, like letting her cry when she's upset and scared. I think she's just lazy but my mother thought she was perfect, because her references were sooooo good. We're still fighting to this day. "

Lorelai sighed again and Mia nodded to encourage her to continue, finding herself mesmerized by this tale.

Lorelai continued her story, telling Mia about her mother's unsuccessful attempts to engage Lorelai in her own social activities, and Lorelai's utter boredom and contempt for that world. "The only good thing was that I got to see how a lot of events were put on, like teas and luncheons. That's where I started learning about that stuff and got interested in it."

"So what's happened now that makes you so desperate to leave their house?"

"Well, a few weeks ago, they told me they wanted me to go to college. I thought that was a good idea and that I could go to a community college so I could go home to Rory every night. But they hated that idea—my father went to Yale, you see, and I was supposed to go to an upscale school like that—another way I disappointed them. So they told me that I have to go away to a school and leave Rory behind for them and the battle-axe to take care of. I'd only see her on vacations. " Tears sprang to Lorelai's eyes and she looked up at Mia in utter misery. "I said no and we had a huge fight. Then my mother told me. . ." she paused and took a deep breath. "She told me that if I didn't do what they wanted, they'd put me out and go to court to get custody of Rory. And I'd never get her back."

Mia drew her breath in horror. This girl had been raised by monsters. Threatening one child to get at another? Separating a mother and baby? She shuddered.

"I'd rather die than do that. There's no way I'm going to let Rory grow up in that house without me. They'd just—swallow her up. She'd turn into one of those empty, robot kids that I've known all my life. I just can't stand for that. So—" Her eyes sought Mia's. "So I have to get us out of there. I have to find a job to support her and I have to hide from them so they can't take her away from me. I just have to, Mrs. Holloway."

Mia set Rory on the floor, got up and crossed to the desk and passed Lorelai the box of Kleenex that was sitting there. Lorelai grabbed a handful and wiped her eyes, sniffing audibly into the bundle. Mia said nothing for a few minutes, allowing the girl to gather herself together. She yearned to put her arms around the young woman and let her sob into Mia's shoulder, but she sensed that it would be important to Lorelai at that moment to maintain the adult dignity she had been striving so hard for throughout the interview.

She sat quietly for a few minutes, and then picked up the conversation. "Well. I see your dilemma. " She thought for another moment. "How old are you, Lorelai? The truth, now," she admonished when she saw the girl hesitate.

Lorelai drew in her breath. "I'm seventeen. I'll be eighteen next spring."

Mia nodded, lost in thought. "Why stay in Connecticut? If your intention is to hide, wouldn't you be better off going to another state?"

Lorelai sensed the woman was really prepared to hear her out and she straightened in her chair and leaned forward. "Well, I thought about that at first. But I've been doing a lot of research about juvenile law in the last few weeks. I know now what the laws are in Connecticut and what I have to watch out for. Here, I'll be an adult at eighteen and my parents can't touch me then. In other states, I'd have to be twenty-one."

"But that doesn't affect their ability to take Rory."

"I know. But I figure that if by then I've proved that I can support her and make a nice home for her, I'd have a better chance against them. I _am_ her mother. I've read up on some cases like mine, and they usually favor the mother in custody situations, as long as they can't prove abuse or neglect."

Mia was impressed. The young woman had thought this through, displaying clearly the intelligence Mia had glimpsed throughout the discussion.

But then a bit of the little girl crept through. "Besides, I—I know this area. I know how everything works around here. In another state, I wouldn't. I know this is going to be hard and I guess I'd like some things to stay familiar."

So despite everything, she's afraid to run too far from home, Mia realized. Her heart swelled again at the combination of courage and naiveté she saw before her.

"I thought that if the place I went to was out of the way enough, it would work," Lorelai continued.

Mia chuckled. "Well, Stars Hollow is certainly that. But that's another thing, Lorelai. I doubt you know what small towns are like. Everybody knows everybody's business and if they don't, they make it a point to find it out. If a pretty young girl like you shows up with a beautiful baby, they're going to ask questions. And they'll hound you until they get the answers."

"Well—maybe I don't have to go into town very much," Lorelai replied eagerly. "I have a car and if I need to shop or something, I can drive to Woodbridge or somewhere where no one will notice me. If you hire me, I can just stay around here."

"But won't that be lonely for you, dear? You're a young girl—you should make friends and have some fun."

Lorelai shook her head. "I don't have to. Rory is what's most important."

Mia marveled again at the girl's determination. "Okay, next question—where do you plan to live?"

"Well, I wondered something about that," Lorelai responded. "I wondered, if you hired me, could I trade some of my salary for room and board?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that wouldn't work, dear. The rooms here are very expensive. They would eat up your whole salary in less time than it would take to earn it."

"Oh." Lorelai sank back in her chair, disappointed.

Mia stared into the distance, thinking. "Board is no problem," she murmured. "We serve breakfast and dinner here every day, and often lunch, too. There's always food left over and I hate to waste it, so the staff is always welcome to it. But a place to stay. . .Perhaps you could rent a room somewhere, but you'd likely run into a nosy landlady." She considered for a moment. "Let me think about that one for a little bit. Have you thought about how you'll take care of Rory while you work? Paying child care would eat up all your salary, too."

"I thought about that. If I was a maid, with your permission maybe I could just keep her with me. I have a sort of baby backpack I could carry her around in while I work. Or I also have a portable car seat—I could carry that with me."

Mia was amazed. "But you'd be exhausted. The work is hard enough without lugging a heavy child around with you."

Lorelai shook her head again. "I wouldn't mind. Rory is worth it."

And again Mia was struck by the fierce determination she saw before her.

Rory had crawled back to Lorelai and raised her arms to her mother, who promptly picked her and sat her in her lap. The girl stuck her finger into the sweet cherry filling of her pastry and gently rubbed it on the baby's lips. Rory tasted it and her eyes sparkled with delight. She reached her chubby hand towards the treat, babbling excitedly.

Mia watched, smiling, and then took a more serious tone that she had so far. "Lorelai—what would you do if you thought you were going to be caught? If you got word that your parents had figured out where you were?"

"I'd have to leave," the teen replied promptly. "I'd hate to have to just walk out on you, but—I'd have no choice. I'd take Rory and go, even if we just had the clothes on our back. I don't want you to get into trouble," she added anxiously, "so if I did get caught, I'd tell them that I had told you I was eighteen and an orphan or something."

"Oh, honey, that's sweet of you, but don't worry about me. What would you do if your parents did what your mother threatened—put you out of the house and try to get custody of Rory?"

"Well—I know lots of ways in and out of the house," Lorelai admitted. "If I had to, I'd sneak in at night and just take Rory and run. Run as far away as I could. Probably to another state, or to a big city where we could just disappear—or maybe to Canada. But we'd just run."

You would, too, thought Mia, steepling her fingers and pressing her chin into them. You'd run fast and hard—and God only knows where you'd end up, or with who. She recognized from the past hour's conversation that while Lorelai was smart and savvy in many ways, she was still only an untested teenager raised in a protected world. She and the baby would be easy prey for someone to take advantage of—or worse. If someone got wind of the fact that they were from a wealthy family, they might even be kidnapped and held for ransom—with an unhappy outcome.

No, Mia thought, better that they stay here, where I can keep an eye on them. Where I can keep them safe. And she realized she had come to a decision—and that her maternal instinct had kicked in and taken over her judgment once again.

She slapped her hands to her knees. "Okay," she said decisively. "Here's what I'm willing to do. I'll give you a try—" Lorelai's face lit up and she opened her mouth to express her thanks—"but under some conditions. There's a building on the grounds where you can stay. It started out as a potting shed but a gardener who was here for many years converted it into a little apartment. It's nothing spectacular," she warned, for the girl had started to look excited. "It's basically just one room. But there's a tub and toilet and sink, and a small refrigerator and hot plate. It has electricity but the heat isn't too good."

"I don't care," Lorelai said fervently. "It sounds perfect."

Mia held up her hand. "I said there were some conditions. First, you have to find some way to let your parents know you're all right and give them some way to contact you, even if they don't know exactly where you are."

"I've actually thought about that," Lorelai replied excitedly. "I was thinking I could rent a post office box in Hartford. They won't give away the address and things could be forwarded to me here. I'd have to find some way to send things from a different postmark, though," she worried.

"Well, maybe I could help with that," Mia said. "I have family and friends all around the country. I could send them your letters for them to mail from out of state. That would throw your parents off track," she added with a small chuckle. You couldn't live in Stars Hollow and not delight in a little intrigue.

"That would be great—thank you," the girl told her.

"Second condition, and this is a serious one," Mia warned. "If I think that Rory is not being properly cared for—or that you're not taking care of yourself—I reserve the right to call our deal off and contact your parents myself. I'll only do that if I think the circumstances are dire enough—and I'll give you fair warning that I'm that concerned. Understood?"

Lorelai nodded solemnly. "Understood. But I'll tell you now, it'll never happen."

"Good," Mia replied. "So—we have a deal?"

Lorelai stood up, Rory in her arms, and formally reached out her hand to her new employer. "It's a deal," she said seriously.

They shook hands and smiled at each other for a long moment. Then Mia said, "Lorelai and Rory Gilmore—welcome to the Independence Inn."

"Aptly named," murmured the girl, sporting the biggest smile Mia had seen yet.

And as Mia squeezed her hand and continued to smile, she thought, What have I gotten myself into now?


	3. Chapter 3: The Getaway

THE ESCAPE

Ever wonder what really went down when Lorelai ran away from the Gilmore house? Here's one version of how it might have happened. . .

DISCLAIMER: Dan and Amy. All theirs. Not mine. Just borrowing.

CHAPTER THREE: THE GETAWAY

The next few weeks passed with gathering speed for Lorelai as she neared the date for her escape. She was scheduled to leave for college a few days after Labor Day, so she had a little over two weeks to complete and carry out her plans.

After they had finished their interview, Mia took Lorelai and Rory out to show them the little shed where they would live. It was small, plain and a little depressing—but to Lorelai it looked better than her expensively decorated room at home, because it represented freedom to her. Mia then took her all around the Inn, introduced her to the head housekeeper who would be her immediate supervisor and gave her an idea of what her duties would be as a maid. Some of the newer staff raised their eyebrows at the idea of this pretty teen with the baby in her arms joining their work force. But the staff who had been there longer and were used to Mia's impulses shared knowing smiles and nods as they saw that their boss was at it again.

At home, Lorelai carried out her campaign like a general. Richard was working late every night on a difficult new account and Emily was caught up in a flurry of end-of-summer parties and activities, as well as finalizing Lorelai's wardrobe for college. Lorelai needed to give her mother some time on that front to keep Emily's complaints and suspicions to a minimum. But when her mother was otherwise occupied, Lorelai began a slow and secret move out of the Gilmore mansion.

She started with her own winter clothes, as they were in the back of a closet waiting to be brought out for the coming fall season. This was tricky, for Emily was currently invading those very clothing supplies to fill in her daughter's new school wardrobe. However, she didn't look at or care about Lorelai's endless supplies of jeans and T-shirts and those were the first to go, along with some of her books and CDs. Lorelai became adept at slipping boxes and suitcases out the door when the maid wasn't looking; she also got very good at tying a rope to the suitcases, lowering them from the balcony off her bedroom and securing them in the trunk of her car.

She unpacked them on the few days during this period that she went back to the Inn for work training, and then returned the suitcases home to fill them up again. Once or twice she took quick runs from home to the little shed at the Inn just to empty her car of whatever she had sneaked out that day. On other days, she stayed for a while to learn and practice her new duties. She was still paranoid about leaving Rory but when they'd arrive at the Inn, Mia would happily snatch the baby to carry into her office and look after her while Lorelai was training. The girl learned very quickly and soon was doing every task as well as the maids who had been there for months.

Lorelai continued her pilfering of goods from her home as unobtrusively as possible, also choosing some of the bigger baby clothes that Rory had not yet grown into, along with a few blankets, pillows and some of the cheap flatware and dishes her mother had let her use in the past for play. She was careful to cover her tracks as best as she could. Luckily, her parents were used to paying little attention to her activities as long as she didn't seem to overtly be causing trouble.

As she had promised Mia, she went to the downtown post office and arranged for a box, asking that the mail be forwarded to Stars Hollow. A flirtatious conversation with a smitten young male clerk gave her assurance that forwarding addresses were kept completely confidential and that the Post Office was quite serious about that. Her bank had a branch not in Stars Hollow proper but nearby so she could access her funds. With a clever bit of forgery of Richard's signature on a request form at the bank, she got her father's name taken off her account so he could no longer access it.

She carefully chose the day of her departure to coincide with Theresa's day off. Luckily, her father was still going early to the office and staying late; on that particular day, Emily was scheduled for an early aerobics class as well as a hair appointment, luncheon and committee meeting. Her parents were then scheduled to rush home from their busy days, quickly change and go off to a charity event which would keep them out until late.

With any luck, they might not even notice Lorelai's departure until the next morning.

Lorelai had difficulty sleeping the night before, tossing and turning with anxiety, hoping her plan would not blow up in her face at the last minute. Her mind kept racing over the details and tasks she needed to complete in the morning and hoping she wouldn't forget anything vital.

She was tempted to stay upstairs during her parents' breakfast but couldn't resist slipping down to the dining room for a quick cup of coffee while they were still there—just for one more glimpse of them, a notion which she scornfully dismissed as unnecessarily sentimental but nonetheless could not resist. She listened to their chatter about their respective plans for the day and answered their questions as briefly as she could while still remaining polite enough to escape her mother's criticism. As usual neither parent looked up from their newspapers for more than a second or two—and neither cast a direct glance at their daughter.

Before long she couldn't stand it anymore, and rose to leave.

"Remember, Lorelai," Emily said, finally sparing her daughter a look. "I'm going to be out all day and your father and I are going to a dinner tonight. The maid will make you something to eat if you want. Unless you're going to take Rory and go out. . .wherever it is that you go." This last with a slight sneer to her voice. "If you want to eat out on your own, you can."

"Okay, Mom," Lorelai replied, trying to keep a nervous quaver out of her voice. "I'll probably do that." She then felt a flash of inspiration. "In fact, I'll be out most of the day myself so if you want to tell the maid she can take some time off after her morning work, that would be fine. I can get Rory whatever she needs."

"All right, if you say so," her mother responded, looking back down at her paper.

Lorelai stopped at the dining room door and looked back at them. "Well—bye. Have a nice time tonight."

"You too, dear," her mother responded absently, still not looking her daughter's way. Her father simply grunted in acknowledgement of Lorelai's statement.

She watched them for a moment longer and slowly went up the stairs.

Her heart racing, she hurried to the nursery. As she prepared Rory for the day, she kept her ear sharply attuned to the sounds in the house, and thus it was that she heard the front door slam when her father, and later her mother, left the building. Both times she went to the window and watched them get into their cars and drive away, a little surprised at the ache of longing that flooded through her with each departure.

She stayed upstairs for a while, listening to the sounds of the maid moving around the house, cleaning and making the beds while Lorelai did some more packing. She eventually took Rory downstairs, put her in a high chair they left in the dining room and sat with her at the dining room table, reading a magazine and sipping coffee, feeling each tick of the clock go through her like an electric shock. Finally, as it was nearing eleven, the maid stopped in the doorway.

"I'll be leaving now, miss—are you sure there isn't anything I can do for you first?"

"No, Dora, thanks—I'm fine. Have a good day."

The young woman smiled. "Thank you, miss. You have a good day, too."

"Thanks," Lorelai returned. You have no idea, she thought to herself.

The minute the door closed behind the woman, Lorelai sprang up and raced upstairs.

Over the next two hours, she completed her packing and moved more of her belongings into her car, including Rory's portable crib and the folding stroller. She jumped at every creak of the house, worrying that her mother would return home unexpectedly and thwart her getaway. Finally, when she had finished every planned task that she could think of, she looked around her bedroom—that perfect teenage girl's bedroom in which Lorelai had had absolutely no say in the décor—and with a sigh, closed the door and went downstairs.

She settled Rory in her car seat and returned to the house for one last check that she hadn't left anything, and also to take a last look around. She paused in the living room as her eyes fell on the family portrait that held the central focus in the room. She studied the figures: the smiling, almost smug mother, the genial-looking father—and the dark-haired little girl who looked out at the room with an expression on her face that was a combination of defiance and pain.

I don't want Rory to ever have that look on her face, Lorelai thought. And was rewarded with a new surge of determination and certainty that she was doing the right thing.

She left an envelope sitting on a table by the door where she hoped it would be easily found before a search party was put together. And then she quietly left the house without a backward glance, climbed into her car and, with a caress to her daughter's soft curls, drove away.

Mia knew that it was E-day—or "escape day"—and had been on the lookout for Lorelai since late morning.

Over the previous weeks, Mia had sometimes wondered if she had lost her mind, agreeing to help an underage child run away from home, with a younger child yet. Yet as she spent more time with Lorelai and heard more stories about life in the Gilmore mansion, her certainty would return that she was right to keep this pair close to her where she could make sure they were safe.

When she saw the small car come onto the property and pull up next to the potting shed, she hurried over.

Lorelai climbed out and stood for a moment. She looked at her new mentor and, as Mia smiled at her, a tear ran down her face. Mia opened her arms and Lorelai went into them, sobbing as if her heart would break.

Some hours later, Richard and Emily were in the vestibule of the mansion, getting ready to leave for their dinner party.

"Well, the stroller isn't cluttering up the front hall for the first time in a year," Emily observed. "That's something." Then her eyes fell on an envelope sitting on the door-side table. She stepped over, picked it up and began to read the note inside.

Richard was talking about the party they were to attend and how boring he expected it to be. When his wife didn't respond, he glanced over at her—and wondered if she had suddenly become ill, because her face had turned deadly white. "Emily?" he queried.

He came to her side as she held the note out to him with a terrified expression on her face. Richard took it and read it.

_Dear Mom and Dad:_

_I just can't bear the thought of going away to school and leaving Rory. I don't want her raised by nannies—I want her to be raised by someone who'll let her know every day how much she's loved. She deserves that. I know that if I don't go to school like you want, you'll go to court and take Rory away from me, and I couldn't stand that. I would simply die. _

_So I think it's best for us to go away where I can raise my daughter the way I think is right. Please don't worry about us. I've been planning this for a while. I'm in touch with some nice people who are going to help me and I have a job and a place to live all set up. After I turn eighteen, if I believe you'll never threaten to separate us again, I may get back in touch with you. _

_Please don't try to find me. If I think you're trying to, I will leave where I am and go farther away and I will never contact you again. Please believe that I will do this. _

_Don't worry about us. We'll be fine. _

_Lorelai. _

"What in God's name?" Richard bellowed. "Emily, what does she mean that we'll go to court and take Rory away? What is she talking about? Emily?"

He turned to his wife just in time to catch her as she fell in a dead faint to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4: The Aftermath

THE ESCAPE

Ever wonder what really went down when Lorelai ran away from the Gilmore house? Here's one version of how it might have happened. . .

DISCLAIMER: Not stealing. I just like to wander into Stars Hollow once in a while.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

Once Lorelai's wracking sobs had quieted to sniffles and an occasional hiccup, Mia loosened her arms from around the girl. She placed one hand on each of Lorelai's arms and gave her a little shake; she raised her chin as she looked the girl straight in the eyes. After a moment Lorelai, with a weak smile, lifted her chin too in imitation of her mentor. They locked eyes for a minute without speaking and both gave a small nod-and Lorelai began the first steps into her chosen future.

They unpacked the car and settled her belongings as quickly as they could. Over the previous weeks, Mia had been scouring the old furniture in her storage room for the best she had there. Consequently, Lorelai could now lay claim to a bed, a wardrobe and a tall dresser; a small table and several straight-backed chairs, a bookcase and a small loveseat which she set perpendicular to the wall to create a little break between the living/dining area and the sleeping area. There was even a high chair for Rory. The teen had brought a small portable television that had been in her room at home for several years which was set on a little table facing the loveseat. With Rory's portable crib squeezed into a corner at the foot of the bed, the little room was bursting at the seams—but Lorelai felt she had everything she needed.

When things had been settled, Mia carted the girls into the Inn where they had a nice dinner with several other staff and the next morning, with Rory in tow in her portable car seat, Lorelai began her new job.

Within a few short weeks, she had mastered all the tasks she was required to routinely do and was fast on her way to being generally acknowledged as the best worker on the housekeeping staff. The employees that had been there longer might have resented her for this, but her natural charm, energy, willingness to do anything asked of her and quick and witty banter melted any bad feelings away and she soon became a favorite among all the staff. And, the male workers quietly agreed, as an added bonus she could definitely qualify as eye candy.

Besides, she had Rory, who rapidly became a sort of mascot for the Independence Inn. All the female staff loved playing with and talking to her and sometimes tried to elbow each other out of the way to spend time with the baby. Before a week had passed after the Gilmores' arrival, a small playpen had been installed in Mia's office and it became a daily habit for the boss to track her new employee down in whatever room she was cleaning, cart the baby away and enjoy her company for several hours. Shortly after that, a high chair appeared in the kitchen and Rory regularly held court there, too.

As Mia had promised, there was plenty for them to eat. Often Lorelai would take meals with the others at the large staff table which stood at one side of the kitchen; sometimes she packed her meal and escaped to her little cottage, as she began to think of it, to cuddle with her daughter. She also made use of the extensive grounds, which promised to be a paradise for a child's play, seating herself and the baby on a blanket in some hidden corner and enjoying the outdoors. Before long, Rory was blooming from the effect of her mother's constant presence and the attention showered on her by the staff and owner of the Inn. Her first birthday in October was cause for a staff party after the restaurant had closed for the evening and she was deluged with all manner of small gifts.

Mia encouraged Lorelai to follow up on her interest in the special events planning for the Inn. She began to tag around after Mia and the events planner on the staff, who were happy to take the bright girl under their respective wings. Before long, she was using some of her free time to serve as a sort of unofficial assistant to the planners and her knowledge grew by leaps and bounds, along with her developing taste. She also earned some extra money by acting as server at some of these events.

Lorelai liked to fill up her time for, despite her growing happiness and her certainty that she had done the right thing, she was sometimes lonely and homesick. As the summer days cooled into autumn, she would sometimes move a chair to the door of her little shed and sit in the growing darkness just staring into space. There was sometimes a hired band playing in the restaurant and she would listen to the music drifting across the grounds, wistfully wondering what her future would bring and dreaming of the home she so badly wanted to make for Rory.

Perhaps she could someday buy a little white house for them, with a yard and a porch with a swing, as she had seen driving through the countryside that summer. Perhaps Rory would fulfill the early promise of the intelligence she showed and would one day want to go to college-maybe an Ivy League school, like her mother was supposed to attend. That would prove, once and for all, how well Lorelai had done at raising her daughter.

Lorelai sat in the doorway of her little house and dreamed great dreams.

Two weeks after his daughter and granddaughter had disappeared, Richard Gilmore sat at the desk in his office staring blankly at an insurance policy before him. His inability to focus on his work was exemplary of the train wreck that his formerly well-ordered life had become.

When Emily had recovered from her fainting spell, their immediate impulse was to call the police and perhaps hire a private detective to track down their girls. Emily pushed hard on this point, but Richard remained stymied by the implied threat in Lorelai's note, that if they tried to find her, they would never hear from her again. They knew their daughter well enough to believe that she would carry out her word, and for this reason, Richard hesitated. He wanted to leave a door open to her and not push her into a corner that would cause her to mistrust them even more than she already did. Emily vehemently disagreed and they went around and around in their arguments but were never able to get unstuck from their original position that it was too dangerous to do anything. There they remained frozen as the days went on.

During one of these discussions, Richard had asked Emily what the hell Lorelai had meant when she said that her parents were threatening to take Rory's custody away from her. Emily tried to downplay this statement, citing Lorelai's constant need for drama, but while doing so, she wouldn't look Richard in the eye. With further questioning, he finally deduced the truth, that she had made this threat and included him in it without ever discussing it with him. He was furious and yelled at her that he had lost his daughter and granddaughter because of her need to control everything. And he knew, deep down, that what Lorelai had implied was true-that his wife would give a lot to get control of that baby and take another shot at raising the perfect daughter, even going so far as to lie to and threaten Lorelai to do it.

After that argument, Emily had taken to her bed and seemed to lose interest in everything. Richard was banished to the guest room. Despite that, he made genuine efforts to stir his wife's interest in the world again and tried to be as thoughtful as possible, bringing her flowers and small gifts almost every day. But, despite his best efforts, she had not yet responded.

Richard Gilmore was a man who was used to having control over his world and to dictate its events, confident that his desires would be met. Now, as he sat in his office, doodling on the contract he was supposed to be reading, he considered that for the first time in his life, everything seemed to be out of control-and he was damned if he knew what he could do about it.

Lost in thought, he did not initially hear the phone when it began to ring. After several rings, however, he called, "Marge! Are you getting that?" As the words left his mouth he remembered that his secretary was off with some of her colleagues celebrating a co-worker's birthday. Annoyed, he snatched up the phone and barked, "Richard Gilmore."

There was silence on the other end and Richard's annoyance grew. "Hello? Is anyone there?''

He was about to hang up in disgust when he heard a small voice he had feared he would never hear again. "Daddy?"

An electric shock went through Richard's brain and body. "Lorelai?" he said, and immediately the volume of his voice grew. "Are you all right? Is Rory all right? Where are you?"

"We're fine, Dad, just fine. Everything is great," his daughter soothed him. "I'm calling because I promised somebody that I'd let you know I'm all right."

The anger that had been simmering beneath Richard's surface exploded out of him. "Lorelai, we've been out of our MINDS with worry about you! Your mother won't get out of her bed! How could you DO this to us?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," she replied in a small voice.

"Being sorry doesn't help anything. Lorelai, tell me where you are this instant. I'll come and get you and bring you home."

"No, Dad," she said firmly. "I can't do that." A pause while Richard tried to think of what to say next. "Dad, did you get the note I left?"

Richard quieted a bit. "Yes—yes, we did."

"I meant what I said in that note. I can't come home if it means that I risk losing Rory."

Richard's demeanor softened ever more. "Lorelai—I want you to know that your mother and I never discussed trying to get custody of Rory from you. I would never try to do that unless you were neglecting her severely. I don't know why your mother said that."

"I know why," his daughter replied bitterly. "She said that to scare me and get me to do what she wanted. Everything always has to be the way she wants—even people's lives. Especially my life."

Richard could not reply. He knew it was true.

He tried another tack. "If I promised you that we would never do that—if I said you could go to community college or do whatever you wanted—would you come home then?"

A pause. "No, Dad," Lorelai replied firmly. "I think it's better that I don't. I can't risk it. You might promise not to pull something like that, but I just don't trust Mother. She can be very sneaky and I wouldn't put it past her to do something behind my back. The stakes are too high—I just can't risk it."

Again, Richard could not refute her words.

"Besides, I still don't think I'd be happy living there. I just don't want to be a part of that world." She paused, guessing that these words might have been hurtful and tried again more tactfully. "Dad, I know that you always worked hard to give us a nice home and everything we wanted and I really appreciate that. But you and Mom live in a very—" she struggled for a word—"a very limited, closed world. I don't want Rory to grow up to be like the kids I was raised with, thoughtless and selfish and empty. All that the boys think about is getting drunk and what kind of sports car they're going to get next and all the girls think about is the label on their next dress and what color nail polish would look best with it. I was always bored stiff with those kids—that's one reason I kept getting into so much trouble, just to liven things up a little. I don't want Rory to become an empty-headed debutante, or, later, another society matron with nothing to do but drink and shop because her life is so empty. And I don't want that for myself, either. I don't mean Mom," she added, again trying to soften her words. "She has lots of interests and keeps busy, and that life suits her. But it doesn't suit me at all and I would hate to think that Rory can't do more than that. I think she should have more to think about than when she's getting her next pair of designer shoes."

Richard's mind wandered over the many women in their social circle that he knew, and the children and teens that he had met through his daughter. He realized that her description of them was dead on—and that he, too, would want something better for the next generations of Gilmore women.

"Well—perhaps you're right," he conceded. "I know you—you don't like that world very much. I would hate to see you unhappy."

There was silence on the line for a moment before Lorelai said eagerly, "Dad—I have a job. A real job, and I'm doing well at it. Everybody says so. They're even talking about giving me more responsibility already."

Richard could recognize that his daughter was still little girl enough to want her father's praise and approval. "That's fine, dear," he said softly. "That's just wonderful."

Encouraged by that, Lorelai dared to go a little farther. "I'm working for a—very reputable company. I looked it up before I applied for the job. And the owner is very well-liked and respected, and likes me."

"Well, it sounds like it was a good choice then," Richard told her. "And—you have a place to live, your note said?"

"Yes. It's not much, but it's all ours."

"And Rory is all right?"

"She's great. Everybody here loves her and they help me take care of her. I'm going to have to watch out that she doesn't get spoiled," she added with a laugh. "But she's happy and healthy and really seems to like it here."

Another short silence. "Lorelai, is there anything I can do for you to make things easier? Anything at all?"

"Well—actually, there is something. I'm not going to get health insurance through my job for a couple of months, and you've always told me how important it is to have. So can Rory and I stay on your policy for a while longer?"

"Of course you can," he assured her. "In fact, it's a really comprehensive policy, probably better than you could get through a job. If you'd like, I can just continue you on it and pay for it for you indefinitely. And I can do the same for your car insurance. I'd—I'd be happy to do that," he added.

"Thank you. I'll think about that."

Richard took another plunge. "Lorelai, I could get you a credit card in your name and just pay the bills from here. Then you'd have it for any emergencies. Please let me do this," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

His daughter hesitated a moment. "That's—that's really generous, and I appreciate it. And I'm tempted. Believe me, I'm learning the value of a dollar very quickly these days," she said with a laugh. "But I think I'd better not. There are too many ways there could be a slip-up and Mom might find us." Lorelai did not seem to realize that she and her father had wordlessly entered into a pact to keep Emily in the dark. "Besides, I really want to do this for myself and take care of us on my own."

"All right," her father sighed. It was dawning on him that his relationship with Lorelai had always centered around giving her things. Now that she was refusing them, he wasn't quite sure of his ground and didn't know how to relate to her.

He thought for a minute more and said, "Is there any way I can get in touch with you? If there's an emergency?"

Lorelai was silent for several minutes. "Do you promise—do you absolutely promise that you won't try and find us?"

Silence. Then, "I promise," Richard said with a heavy heart. "On my word as a Gilmore."

"All right—but this information is for you only. Before I left Hartford, I opened a post office box. They're going to forward all my mail to—to where I am. You could reach me that way. But only in an emergency," she warned.

"It's a deal," her father said, and Lorelai gave him the number of the box.

Another awkward silence filled the air. Then Lorelai said, "Well, I have to get back to work. It was nice talking to you, Dad."

"I enjoyed talking to you, Lorelai," her father softly replied. "Thank you for calling and setting my mind at ease. Please take care of yourself and Rory and—please let me know if you need anything, anything at all."

"I promise I will, Dad. You can tell Mom that you heard from me and that we're okay—however you think is best. And I hope she feels better soon."

Richard knew as they said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone that telling Emily would be very difficult and that it would be a long time before either of them felt better at all.

Six months later, on a warm and sunny day in early March, Lorelai was dressing Rory for an expedition. She was somewhat excited by this trip, for it was going to be one of her first real excursions into the town of Stars Hollow.

In her zeal to achieve full adulthood after her move, she had made a list of the responsibilities she needed to take care of on an ongoing basis. One of them was her car. Lorelai had scrimped for several months to save enough to take it in for a servicing. One of the oil lights kept going on and she thought there might be something wrong with the tires, as the ride was bumpy. As usual, she had sought Mia's counsel.

"Oh, there's a good garage right in town," her friend explained. "They're very fair with prices and know what they're doing. Just make an appointment."

"Will it be okay for me to go to town? I haven't really been there and I don't want to call attention to myself."

Mia considered. "I should think it would be all right for a few hours. If you make your trips infrequent, people won't wonder about you."

So Lorelai had gotten the number, called and made an appointment. She was now preparing herself and Rory to take the car to the garage and to spend several hours looking around Stars Hollow while that work was being done.

With a shiver of excitement—she had barely left the Inn since her arrival, and it would be fun to see someplace new—she settled herself, Rory and the stroller into her little car and set off. During the short ride to town, she thought about the past six months and felt satisfied at how well things were going.

She had continued to do well at her job, taking on more and varied tasks and even having a part in training a new maid who had recently started. She still helped out on the Inn's special events and her opinion was being increasingly valued. And lately, Mia had begun to hint about teaching her more about the rest of the hotel business, including reservations and management.

All in all, Lorelai was very satisfied with her budding career.

Rory continued to thrive. She had begun walking just before her first birthday and now, instead of being carried around in a car seat while her mother worked, she would toddle after Lorelai into the room being cleaned and sit quietly in a corner playing with one of her toys while the requisite tasks were completed. She continued to be a hit among all the Inn's staff and, occasionally, the guests.

Lorelai grew increasingly adept at maintaining her focus on her new goals and keeping homesickness and loneliness at bay. The only really difficult time was around the holidays. The Inn had a large party on Thanksgiving and Lorelai filled the hours of that day by serving at the banquet (and receiving a very good haul in tips).

Inspired by the holiday spirit, Lorelai had sent a Christmas card to her parents enclosing a picture of herself and Rory, the baby holding both her mother's hands as she toddled towards the camera and the teenager laughing with delight. She was concerned that the postmark would give away her location, but Mia solved that by sending the card to her son in North Carolina and having him mail it from there. The arrival of the card initially set off a wild thrill in the Gilmore residence, until they realized that the postmark was from far out of state and their excitement subsided. Emily wanted to immediately hire a detective to head to Raleigh and search, but Richard, remembering his promise to his daughter, refused.

But they used the opportunity to partake in a little Christmas cheer of their own and Lorelai received a package from them through her post office box. It included a pretty sweater set for her and an elaborately trimmed, red velvet dress for Rory, complete with layers of built-in petticoats—just like the type of dress Lorelai used to be forced to wear. She shook her head in half amusement and half disgust as she inspected the gift. It was just like her mother to send something so completely impractical when Rory was fast growing out of her snowsuit.

The snowsuit, however, was provided by Mia as a Christmas gift for the baby, along with some stuffed animals and toys, with some clothes and CDs for her mother. Mia's son was visiting with his family for Christmas and Mia generously included Lorelai and Rory in the family festivities. When her son questioned her about it, she replied, "They need someone to look after them. And I've come to feel like she's another daughter to me." Her son wisely left it at that but watched the girls with interest and was friendly and cordial to them throughout his visit. In short order, he became as fond of them as his mother.

Lorelai was humming as she entered the small downtown area and stopped at the garage. An older man took the keys from her and promised to have it ready in a few hours. As Lorelai prepared to leave with Rory in her stroller, she noticed a sharp-featured young woman with dark hair in two ponytails working on the cars. I like this place, she thought. A woman mechanic—cool!

She strolled around the square, stopping in a bookstore to get a new paperback for herself and a story book and some picture books for Rory. Lorelai had always enjoyed reading and wanted her daughter to start enjoying it as well. Already she was having Rory sit in her lap while she read newspapers and magazines aloud, running her finger under the words as she spoke them. As Rory began to talk, she would often try to repeat the words her mother was saying and usually remembered them. As a result, she had a large vocabulary for seventeen months.

Lorelai also stopped in the small grocery store. She had never used it before, as the rare times that she needed groceries she went to a large shopping center in a nearby town to escape being noticed. She wandered the aisles looking with amusement at the many and varied items available for sale. She noticed that a man with a beard, dressed in a cardigan sweater, was watching her suspiciously. He probably thinks I'm going to shoplift, Lorelai thought with amusement and began to act guilty just to goad him, frequently looking around surreptitiously, pulling items off the shelf, holding them close to her body for a minute as if she was trying to hide them and quickly replacing them back on the shelf. In the end she bought nothing and called out a cheerful, "Good afternoon!" as she left, grinning to herself. The fusty man remained in the door of his shop, clicking his tongue with disapproval and watching her carefully for a little while after her departure.

She stopped in a small bakery for a cup of coffee and a snack. When Rory got fussy, she paused on a bench in the square and allowed her daughter to toddle around the gazebo until she returned with a late-blooming crocus which she proudly held out to her mother.

Lorelai had one more errand she wanted to get done. She planned to put curtains up in the windows of the shed to enhance the shades that were already there and make the windows prettier. She had the rods already but wasn't sure of what hardware she would need to get them up properly. So she set off down the street to the store with a sign "William's Hardware" on the outside.

There were several steps going into the store and Lorelai handled these by walking backwards and dragging the stroller after her. Once inside, she made her way to the counter behind which stood a tired-looking man in his forties. He was very thin and looked as if he had been ill.

She smiled her friendliest smile and explained her problem. In short order, the man's energy had perked up significantly and he moved around the shelves in the store, picking and then discarding brackets and screws until he thought he had found just what she needed. He then explained in detail what she had to do. "These should work out just fine for you, miss."

Lorelai paid the bill, thanked him again and smiled as he leaned down to pat her pretty daughter on the head. Rory rewarded him with a drooly grin and a happy, "Hi!" He chuckled. "I have a grandson just about her age," he told Lorelai.

"Oh, does he live here?"

The man's smiled dimmed a little. "No, he's in New York with his mother. I don't get to see them very often."

They chatted a minute more and she started towards the door.

As she approached it, she heard footsteps enter the store from the curtained archway that seemed to lead to the back. "I finished unpacking that order, Dad," a deep voice said.

"Oh, good, Luke," said his father. "Give me a minute and I'll see what you need to do next."

Lorelai only half-heard this conversation as she attempted to open the heavy door and block it from closing with her body. As she tried to move the stroller through the door, she realized that one of the front wheels was caught in a crevice in the doorway and she couldn't seem to loosen it while she was balancing the heavy door on her hip. "Damn!" she muttered.

But then she felt the door being pulled away from her body as the same deep voice said, "Let me help you with that."

Lorelai tried again and this time loosened the wheel from the door frame. She turned towards the voice, looked up and started to say, "Thanks very mu—" but was struck dumb before she could finish.

Her rescuer was a boy—no, a young man—now holding the door away from her. In a swift glance she could see how attractive he was, with thick brown hair under a baseball cap turned backwards, an aquiline nose and a strong, muscular build under a faded T-shirt. But it was his eyes that captured her attention and left her speechless. Pools of deep blue, fringed with dark lashes, they widened in surprise as he returned her look. She could sense that he felt the same shock of—what—recognition? that she did.

They stared at each other for a minute, neither speaking, both mesmerized. Then Rory slapped the stroller with a loud, "Mama!" Lorelai jumped and started to head down the steps, but the boy quickly squeezed past her, picked up the front of the stroller and helped her lift it down to the sidewalk.

Her cheeks warm with embarrassment, Lorelai fussed with the stroller for a moment until she could get together the nerve to look up again. He was still staring at her. She flashed her dazzling smile and said, "Thanks again."

This time he smiled, too, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. "You're welcome." As she started to push the stroller away, he added, "Come again." Lorelai half-turned to flash him another smile.

There had been very few moments in the past year when Lorelai Gilmore had regretted the strange twists her life had taken. This moment was one of them. As she made her way across the green towards the garage, she couldn't help but wish that she had met this attractive boy in the cafeteria at her high school or at a party. If she had, she wouldn't have hesitated to sidle up to him, flash her incomparable grin, maybe throw in a hair toss for good measure and quickly have him eating out of her hand. From the looks of this guy, she thought, it wouldn't take much to get him to that point.

Halfway across the square she dared take a quick peek back over her shoulder. He was still standing in front of the store and was still looking at her.

Lorelai briefly sighed, but forced her mind to turn to the things she needed to think about—the adult responsibilities that now made up her life, like her child, her job and her dreams for the future. She had no time for boys, however attractive they might be. Maybe someday, she thought. Maybe when I feel safer. And she felt a flash of hope that, when that time came, she would again encounter the young man with the backwards baseball cap and the mesmerizing eyes who looked at her as if he had been hunting for her all his life.

She arrived at the garage, paid the bill, packed Rory into the car and made her way back home to the Independence Inn.

She did not return to downtown Stars Hollow for a long, long time.

THE END


End file.
